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"No little children to love me!"
Strange that he should think of this, which had never troubled him
before; perhaps the sewing machine brought it to his mind. For long he
muttered to himself, staring at Smee, who was hemming placidly, under
the conviction that all children feared him.
Feared him! Feared Smee! There was not a child on board the brig that
night who did not already love him. He had said horrid things to them
and hit them with the palm of his hand, because he could not hit with
his fist, but they had only clung to him the more. Michael had tried on
his spectacles.
To tell poor Smee that they thought him lovable! Hook itched to do it, but
it seemed too brutal. Instead, he revolved this mystery in his mind: why
do they find Smee lovable? He pursued the problem like the sleuth-
hound that he was. If Smee was lovable, what was it that made him so?
A terrible answer suddenly presented itself--"Good form?"
Had the bo'sun good form without knowing it, which is the best form of
all?
He remembered that you have to prove you don't know you have it before
you are eligible for Pop [an elite social club at Eton].
With a cry of rage he raised his iron hand over Smee's head; but he did
not tear. What arrested him was this reflection:
"To claw a man because he is good form, what would that be?"
"Bad form!"
The unhappy Hook was as impotent [powerless] as he was damp, and he
fell forward like a cut flower.
His dogs thinking him out of the way for a time, discipline instantly
relaxed; and they broke into a bacchanalian [drunken] dance, which
brought him to his feet at once, all traces of human weakness gone, as if
a bucket of water had passed over him.
"Quiet, you scugs," he cried, "or I'll cast anchor in you;" and at once the
din was hushed. "Are all the children chained, so that they cannot fly
away?"
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"Ay, ay."
"Then hoist them up."
The wretched prisoners were dragged from the hold, all except Wendy,
and ranged in line in front of him. For a time he seemed unconscious of
their presence. He lolled at his ease, humming, not unmelodiously,
snatches of a rude song, and fingering a pack of cards. Ever and anon
the light from his cigar gave a touch of colour to his face.
"Now then, bullies," he said briskly, "six of you walk the plank to-night,
but I have room for two cabin boys. Which of you is it to be?"
"Don't irritate him unnecessarily," had been Wendy's instructions in the
hold; so Tootles stepped forward politely. Tootles hated the idea of
signing under such a man, but an instinct told him that it would be
prudent to lay the responsibility on an absent person; and though a
somewhat silly boy, he knew that mothers alone are always willing to be
the buffer. All children know this about mothers, and despise them for it,
but make constant use of it.
So Tootles explained prudently, "You see, sir, I don't think my mother
would like me to be a pirate. Would your mother like you to be a pirate,
Slightly?"
He winked at Slightly, who said mournfully, "I don't think so," as if he
wished things had been otherwise. "Would your mother like you to be a
pirate, Twin?"
"I don't think so," said the first twin, as clever as the others. "Nibs,
would--"
"Stow this gab," roared Hook, and the spokesmen were dragged back.
"You, boy," he said, addressing John, "you look as if you had a little
pluck in you. Didst never want to be a pirate, my hearty?"
Now John had sometimes experienced this hankering at maths. prep.;
and he was struck by Hook's picking him out.
"I once thought of calling myself Red-handed Jack," he said diffidently.
"And a good name too. We'll call you that here, bully, if you join."
"What do you think, Michael?" asked John.
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"What would you call me if I join?" Michael demanded.
"Blackbeard Joe."
Michael was naturally impressed. "What do you think, John?" He wanted
John to decide, and John wanted him to decide.
"Shall we still be respectful subjects of the King?" John inquired.
Through Hook's teeth came the answer: "You would have to swear, 'Down
with the King.'"
Perhaps John had not behaved very well so far, but he shone out now.
"Then I refuse," he cried, banging the barrel in front of Hook.
"And I refuse," cried Michael.
"Rule Britannia!" squeaked Curly.
The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mouth; and Hook roared out,
"That seals your doom. Bring up their mother. Get the plank ready."
They were only boys, and they went white as they saw Jukes and Cecco
preparing the fatal plank. But they tried to look brave when Wendy was
brought up.
No words of mine can tell you how Wendy despised those pirates. To the
boys there was at least some glamour in the pirate calling; but all that
she saw was that the ship had not been tidied for years. There was not a
porthole on the grimy glass of which you might not have written with
your finger "Dirty pig"; and she had already written it on several. But as
the boys gathered round her she had no thought, of course, save for
them.
"So, my beauty," said Hook, as if he spoke in syrup, "you are to see your
children walk the plank."
Fine gentlemen though he was, the intensity of his communings had
soiled his ruff, and suddenly he knew that she was gazing at it. With a
hasty gesture he tried to hide it, but he was too late.
"Are they to die?" asked Wendy, with a look of such frightful contempt
that he nearly fainted.
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"They are," he snarled. "Silence all," he called gloatingly, "for a mother's
last words to her children."
At this moment Wendy was grand. "These are my last words, dear boys,"
she said firmly. "I feel that I have a message to you from your real
mothers, and it is this: 'We hope our sons will die like English
gentlemen.'"
Even the pirates were awed, and Tootles cried out hysterically, "I am
going to do what my mother hopes. What are you to do, Nibs?"
"What my mother hopes. What are you to do, Twin?"
"What my mother hopes. John, what are--"
But Hook had found his voice again.
"Tie her up!" he shouted.
It was Smee who tied her to the mast. "See here, honey," he whispered,
"I'll save you if you promise to be my mother."
But not even for Smee would she make such a promise. "I would almost
rather have no children at all," she said disdainfully [scornfully].
It is sad to know that not a boy was looking at her as Smee tied her to
the mast; the eyes of all were on the plank: that last little walk they were
about to take. They were no longer able to hope that they would walk it
manfully, for the capacity to think had gone from them; they could stare
and shiver only.
Hook smiled on them with his teeth closed, and took a step toward
Wendy. His intention was to turn her face so that she should see the
boys walking the plank one by one. But he never reached her, he never
heard the cry of anguish he hoped to wring from her. He heard
something else instead.
It was the terrible tick-tick of the crocodile.
They all heard it--pirates, boys, Wendy; and immediately every head was
blown in one direction; not to the water whence the sound proceeded,
but toward Hook. All knew that what was about to happen concerned
him alone, and that from being actors they were suddenly become
spectators.
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Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. It was as if he
had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a little heap.
The sound came steadily nearer; and in advance of it came this ghastly
thought, "The crocodile is about to board the ship!"
Even the iron claw hung inactive; as if knowing that it was no intrinsic
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